Lucifer Option
by Nithke
Summary: Somebody has screwed with Trinity's head, and she's mad. After all, it's hard to be happy to be back in the Real...if you're not sure what Real even IS anymore. Who did this? Read on. An AU sort of sequel to A Mad Mad World.
1. Lost

THE LUCIFER OPTION

Nine months ago, I finished writing a story called A Mad Mad World. This is kind of a sequel. (Please don't let me scare you away…I think you can survive without reading it for this story. And anyways, if I made you read it, that would be mean.)

All you need to know is this:

An alternate universe happened somewhere between the first movie and the second. And Trinity's gone bananas. Neo is crushed, if there is even a Neo. What did they do to her to make her doubt her own boyfriend exists?

Specifically…who are _they? _

* * *

**Prologue**

She was naked, she was cold, but this time around she knew what was coming. That was what made this birth different from her other. Still, goosebumps prickled her milky skin, and her muscles felt weak from weeks of confinement, although not, this time, completely unusable.

So Trinity treaded water patiently, calm exterior belying the pit of excitement in her stomach. And now instead of panicking, she waited--- just floating. The water numbed her skin and slowed her nerves. Tiny bits of mucous residue would pass by and over her, giving the sensation that the dark pool was not a waste dump but a dank ocean filled with toxic, active fish.

This time she had time for observation. The last time she'd been in here, she'd freaked. Now, of course, she knew what was going to happen, and that took the fear away. Knew it beneath the veneer of exhilaration that occupied her mind, beneath the bubble that burst later.

And it did happen. As before, a circle of light appeared above her. Trinity smiled. The mechanical claw dropped down, and she grabbed onto it eagerly, reaching up towards the hole like a baby would. She was out of the water, again.

Then, ten minutes later, she realized something that sucked the fun out of the whole situation.

* * *

I never quite got how small the Nebuchadnezzar is, before. Every space … just large enough for whatever needs to happen there, and that's it. It's basically a tin can full of people. We're sardines. It's just like that, isn't it? (Isn't it?)

Or…

Or, was it bigger before.

You know, you know, I think it was bigger. I think that the walls didn't used to swallow me like this. They didn't used to close in on me at night. But maybe that's just me.

And they were simpler too. They weren't filled with tubes and shit, right? There was space?---

Oh! Oh, I'm imagining that. Shut your eyes, Trinity. Trinity, shut them. Breathe. In, out. In. Out. Okay. The walls did NOT just…grow because I wanted them to. They didn't. They can't. This is real and real things don't grow like that, they don't grow because you asked them to. This is real. This is real this is real this is real this is real is this real is this real…

Jesus! What am I doing! Why do I think I need to say that? Ade--- _Trinity_---you can just stop that voiceYou can. Do it. Right now. Replace it with--- Replace it with_ I know that I'm not hallucinating_! I know that I'm not somewhere else dreaming of something I never experienced! And I _know_ I'm not some schizo because….

because…

God damn it. I forgot.

I forgot that I know what the answer is, and it's not an answer at all, because it's "I don't." And that, see, that is their best mindfuck of them all. The machines did their job well, didn't they. See, whatever I find that I think proves it, that thing could _just—be—something—inside—my—crazy--head_.

I bet you're wondering, how I got this way? What do they do to Trinity to make her like this? And that's the _best_ part of it all; it's that I don't know. I don't know, I don't _know_, how do _they_ expect me to know…

If Morpheus were inside my head, I imagine that this is how he would say it. He after all is much better with words than I am.

"A month ago something happened. We are still not clear on what, exactly, did. Certainly, our Trinity was taken from here, and replaced with someone much loopier. But two stories have emerged as to how she got that way. So, therefore, we are also not clear on what exactly did the taking.

Here is Scenario 1.

The only person the One ever loved was kidnapped. Our ship was attacked and she was reinserted into the Matrix, where the machines placed her self-image in a mental hospital. She awoke to find a _program_ of her parents standing over her. They told her that she was a paranoid schizophrenic—that anything except their world was a delusion. They told her that she hadn't been living in the Real World for ten years--- that in fact she had gone over the bend as a teenager, and that there never was a Matrix. We found her and brought her home, but the machines did do a successful job of readjusting her mind, enough so that she can't truly believe the world now around her is real. Horrible.

Or…Scenario 2.

Adele Serena Dubois woke up a month ago, when they thought she would never recover. Nobody at the hospital was positive why; all they knew was that it was nearly a medical miracle. She lived in the real world for several weeks, superficially successfully. Unfortunately, despite heavy medication, her mind did insist on clinging to a fantasy which it had built ten years ago; a fantasy that made her special, a fantasy that created another, "more Real", world for her to live in. She nearly jumped out a thirty-story window to prove this fantasy and died… had she not imagined that her fictional boyfriend came to save her. Thus she fully immersed herself into her dream once more. But now she has experienced the real world once, so there is a chance she may leave her delusions again. I suspect she must choose to, however."

….

This is what I've come up with so far. And as I lie on this bed with a thousand needles in me, there isn't available data to prove it either way. Either the machines hacked me pretty well, or I hacked my own world. I should warn you that you _will_ hear "either" a lot, if you keep reading.

I lie here and I imagine.

Opposing sides do battle in my head. Scenes start off as fantasies to keep me amused, to keep me from going nutsier. Then I drift off and they take off into dreams. Opposite worldviews: universes that cannot peacefully coexist. One cannot live without destroying the other. I indulge one. I flip to the other. Flip…flop. Flip…flop. I hurt different people every time I do it.

God, I'm good at that.

The truth is out there and I have to find it, but I'm not sure how, and if I choose wrong, someone else gets hurt in the process. If there even is someone else. Who am I even talking to?

Oh, lethal, classic Trinity. First they cripple you, then you cripple everyone else. With their minds.

And that's what really pisses me off…because it wasn't even a bullet.

* * *

Next chapter: _What happens when Trinity leaves you?_

And...um... I desperately need encouragement. Please? Hit the button and say something?_  
_


	2. Shattered Glass

The furnace hums a little in the night.

She can hear the refrigerator purr through the thin walls…. Her husband inhales softly beside her, slight belly swelling the pink comforter into a hill of tiny roses. Mabel turns away from him and gathers the quilt up under her chin, its cheap newish fabric disobedient in her hands. She breathes deeply three times, but that doesn't help.

The blinds are drawn and a streetlamp's yellow light makes shadow puppets of her dead windowbox flowers. Mrs. Dubois frowns and tries to concentrate on planning curtains. She's seen this lavender swag in Pottery Barn that she likes, but she doesn't know whether it's manly enough for her husband---

_"__ 'Psychosis,' a common condition in schizophrenia, is a state of mental impairment marked by hallucinations or delusions…which are false yet strongly held personal beliefs that result from an inability to separate real from unreal experiences. ….Social isolation, withdrawal, unusual speech, thinking or behavior, may precede, be seen along with, or follow the psychotic symptoms."_

Oh, web sites don't know anything anyways. They're all made by people with too much time on their hands and not enough honest work. And sometimes people like to play games with other heads, don't they? Not worth thinking about, really. So…how about lace? Something classic ---And this is the _first _one she's ever _seen_ that mentioned how people could---

"… _have many episodes during a lifetime, but lead relatively normal lives during the interim periods. _

_However, the individual with "chronic" schizophrenia, or a continuous or recurring pattern of illness, often does not fully recover normal functioning and typically requires long-term treatment, generally including medication, to control the---"_

….And how will they redecorate Adele's room? After all, she _is _coming home soon. All that black will need to go.

* * *

Then suddenly it's 7:03, and something will not quit ringing.

Mabel wakes up groggy, still half in a dream where the phone was something else, but what, she can't remember… Currently, it's ten inches from her face, however. She stretches out her arm reluctantly. The cheap plastic vibrates angrily….and then shuts off. Oh well. Mabel sighs and swings her legs out of bed.

She is concentrating on fumbling for her slippers when ten seconds later, it rings again.

This time she grabs it. "Hello…Dubois residence…"

"Hello, is this Mr. Dubois?"

Her voice always has been throaty when she wakes up. She coughs heartily. "…No, Mrs."

"I'm sorry if I woke you," says the young female voice. "but my name is Jessica Prescnewyzcki. I'm a nurse in Lancombe Ward, and I'm calling about an Adele Dubois."

"I'm sorry? What about her?" Mabel says foggily.

"Well. Very late last night, Mrs. Dubois, there was a… situation here with your…. Adele's your daughter, right?"

"She is. We are--- She's ours," Mabel says warily. Her brain doesn't seem to be working yet. Perhaps she isn't getting enough protein. What on earth does the woman mean by 'situation'?

"I'm sorry, it's just that sometimes people put other relations on the first-to-notify in their file…So, ma'am, I'm calling to ask-- do you think you could come to the hospital as soon as possible this morning? We'd like to talk to you and your husband, please."

"Why?"

"All right, so there's been an…accident…with Adele. I'm sorry, but I can't say exactly what happened. It's not urgent, but again, we _would_ like you and your husband to come down here as soon as possible---"

"Will you _please_ tell me----"

"It's really something that the doctors should—

Mr. Dubois sat up behind her. "Who is that, Mabel?"

"Wait! Wait, what did you mean by not _urgent?..._ She's not…she's not DEAD, is she!"

"No! No, ma'am, your daughter isn't…really…even…physically hurt! Not at all. She's just scratched. Just a scratch! Just when you come, please _wait in the reception area until our doctors meet you_. Don't go up to her old room _at all_. That's it, really. So we'll see you in half an hour, all right? Around seven-forty?"

"What happened, Mabel? What is this about?"

Mabel still can't connect what she read last night to what she's hearing now, even though she's dreamt about it, even though it floats past her mind as she speaks. "_Adele, dear, it's about Adele---_ No, no…. as long …. Please. Miss. Please, will you tell me before we come in. How has the…situation changed? Exactly? What _is_ this?"

"….So we'll see you in half an hour, then. Good-bye."

Click.

* * *

Adele's father pilots the van through the city streets expertly, skillfully towards the hospital. Adele's mother turns her head away from Adele's father and rests it on the side window, staring out at things that pass, fingers drumming impatiently on the seat. They have a small conversation at the beginning of the drive and then the car is silent, except for the sports radio that Adele's father has turned on to distract himself.

Fifteen minutes of driving and Mrs. Dubois can see the hospital coming up on the right. Its stone façade rises twenty feet then fades into smooth cement. It is unusual because it's right in the city, not in the parts of it that are fading off into suburbia, but it doesn't look out of place; its aluminum and cement and tasteful new stone could be any office building.

The parking lot a little farther on is mercifully empty, since Adele's father is already glaring at his watch and muttering about the doctors. "Seven-forty. How did they expect us to get there by seven-forty? It's not decent to not give a man time…" It's seven-twenty-five and they're already a minute from walking into the doors of the building, but Mabel decides not to push the point.

As the van rumbles past the front of the hospital, something crunches under its tires. "What was that?" says Mr. Dubois suddenly, looking in his rearview mirror. Neither of them see anything in the road, however, but two police cars parked on the side of it.

But as they get out of the car and walk back towards the building, a maintenance man walks out with a push broom and a dustpan. He begins to sweep something off of the sidewalk, but straightens when he sees them.

"How are you doing today," he yells when they're twenty feet away.

"We're fine, thanks," yells Mr. Dubois back. "Just fine. And yourself?"

"Oh, it's excellent…" he sighs. "But be careful, there's really a lot of broken glass around here right now. Watch your step, madam! Very close to the building it's not so bad. There you go."

Mabel looks down. The sun is indeed shining off tiny shards, tiny glimmering pieces that cover the sidewalk for at least a good ten yards, randomly scattered, but covering everything.

"What happened?" she says.

The man points upward. "Some maniac tried to jump out a window."

Everyone looks.

The building glows in the morning sunlight, an unbroken slate of glass. Unbroken, except for a small hole at the very top. Mabel's hand flies to her mouth. Eyes wide, she looks at her husband. He stares down at her, stricken.

"That's my daughter's room," he hisses at the man, as he and Mabel sprint towards the revolving doors.

* * *

The doctor's modern-styled office is stark and cold, but morning sunlight pours through the giant windows, over family artifacts and tiny desk toys that soften the harshness of the lines. Adele's parents are both trying not to cry.

"Maybe when they took her off meds for a few days at Briar…" says Dr. Jacobsen.

His long fingers are folded on the desk, but then he takes one out and rubs the bridge of his nose.

Mabel stares at the ground.

For once James has put his arm around her. They're sitting together on the couch in Jacobsen's office. A balled Kleenex in Mabel's hand, bald nothing in James's eye as he says, "So you think that the medication was what kept her here? Well, what got her here in the first place, then?"

"It could be that your determination to wake her registered in some minute corner of her mind that wasn't consumed by delusions of grandeur, Mrs. Dubois. You said you shook her?"

"Yes…" Mabel nods. Then--- "Wait. Could I do it again? Do you think that would work?" she says desperately.

"Mrs. Dubois…" Dr. Jacobsen takes her hand and looks at her, blue-eyed and empathizing. "There is hope that she might come back. But I don't think that it will be the same way as last time. Her disease has filed you away as programs. Her mind has shut you out and labeled you an anomaly--- she would give herself an explanation for anything that touched her. She would call you "lover" or "doctor" or something… you wouldn't be her mother—"

"Then how do we get to her?" thunders Mr. Dubois. "We can cure it again! For God's sake, you're supposed to be good at this!"

"James, I am good at this. I'm one of the foremost experts in the country on the reason treatment, and that's what I tried with Adele in our sessions. I convinced her once, I think, of the falseness of her ideas. I believe that's why she almost jumped out the window--- I believe in the power of the mind to overcome, surely, but I neglected to remember that that gate swings both ways. However. There is a chance that what we talked about will have an impact on her, even as she persists in hallucinating."

"So she might…" Mabel says thickly.

"It could very _well_ happen that one day she decides to join us. People have managed chronic schizophrenia before. This might just be a psychotic episode, nothing that cripples her forever. We could have her back."

"_Could_… I thought she was cured!" Mabel cries. "You told me she was cured! Why ever did they tell us that …"

"I did not tell you that, I'm sorry, but that was the doctors at the Briar Institute. They do not specialize--exactly-- in the treatment of schizophrenia, I'm afraid. If you'd have come to me I'd have told you what I'm telling you now--- about episodes and recurrence. I'm sorry, again."

Dr. Jacobsen sits back in his chair and clears his throat. He takes out a monogrammed pen and begins to twirl it between his fingers. "It's always sad when we lose a patient again…"

"We haven't _lost_ her. She's still _there_," says Mr. Dubois fervently. "Still _there._" His voice breaks and he has to turn away.

"She is still there, you're right. I shouldn't say lost. She can make a choice to come back to you, but nothing we can do can do it now. No medications will help her, although we're trying. No way I can reach her. Trapped in her own world…" He too looks away.

Mabel, staring at the floor again, says in a low voice, _"I want to see her."_

"What was that?"

"Dr. Jacobsen. Can we see her?"

"Remember, you can't do anything to…"

"I don't care. She's still our child."

"Well…" Dr. Jacobsen stands. "All right. She's been moved to a different ward, since her room as we know it has to be repaired, and I don't think she'll ever show up there again. If you'll follow me…"

* * *

Outside the door of the private room, James and Mabel can see that their daughter, the fleshy lump on the bed, is silent. No shrieks or moans. She is not clawing walls or throwing end tables…in fact, pretty much anything is bolted down, and there are no windows. Dr. Jacobsen unlocks the door and they enter.

Mabel approaches her daughter resolutely and stands at the head of the bed. She looks down---

Adele's head is to one side, limply distributed on the pillow, neck stretched out. On one temple there is a cotton bandage, and around it there are more clotted tiny cuts.

"Adele!" calls her father. "Wake up." Adele, the same girl who'd been talking to him for a month, doesn't answer, even though he can see she's conscious—eyes merely closed. He walks stormily closer, then realizes what she's wearing and looks away.

"Why's she naked?" Mabel whispers through her fingers, eyes red, as though not wanting to disturb her.

The doctor frowns. "We had clothes on her…. she took them off. It's part of the fantasy. I'm sorry, but we couldn't get them back on her," he says.

"Well, she's shivering. Can't you cover her up? At least?"

"We tried," he says. "But she didn't want us to."

"For…for God's sake!" hisses her mother. She grabs the folded blanket at the foot of the bed. Mabel clumsily wraps Adele, covering her. She winds up cradling her head and torso, sitting on the bed with her. A small …"Adele, wake up."

And from the daughter, a small rasping noise.

Adele's eyes open again.

Nobody breathes except her---

"I got it all over your pants, didn't I?" she rasps hoarsely.

The room is silent. Then "No…no, you didn't…" says Mabel through her tears. "Add? Are you…can you see me? Or are you not listening? …Again?"

"How did you find me?" says Adele. "How did you look…."

"Your new room's easier to find, sweet, it's just down a couple from the end of the hallway…" Mabel tries to smile.

Adele smiles a little. Mabel looks defiantly at the doctor. "She understands me! She does! You lied!"

"Mabel, look where her eyes are focused…I told you, it's not you, it's a delusion. Do you want to leave---"

"Right on me! And…now she's looking at all of you… It's okay!"

"No it---"

"I know," Adele says suddenly…"he was my psychiatrist."

"Now you're not making sense…He still is your psychiatrist, honey. He's right here. Right here…." Mabel trails off uncertainly… "Oh…oh….you don't, do you," and her eyes blossom with tears. Her head crumples down---

Adele's hand hits her mother in the nose as it flies up towards her hair. Mabel gasps and grabs her face, but Adele doesn't notice. Her eyes travel past her mother and stare into space--- and the parents hear what they want to hear—

"Jesus Christ," she breathes. "This can't be a dream again. This can't be."

"What?" Mabel cries. " Wait! Yes! It is, it is! Adele! Can you hear me? Adele!"

"_Mabel_--- Adele? Addy? Can you see us?"

Adele doesn't seem to be able to see anyone right now. Instead of looking at her parents and sobbing, "Yes, yes, oh, you're real and my world isn't, there's no Neo and I'm coming home with you!", she is looking around frantically. A beeping on the bedpost shows her heart rate looks mountainous, not solid--- she is panicking.

"Adele! Calm down! Come on, you're fine, we're right here….just look at us…you're so close…" Mabel rubs her back and James caresses his daughter's feet…

"She still can't hear you! Remember that!" Jacobsen rushes anxiously over to the bedside. "But we might…"

Adele speaks again, looking straight at her mother and grabbing her arm. "Shit--- oh shit, oh---" Both parents inhale. "Neo."

"God damn it, Adele!" James smacks the bedpost in despair. Mabel wails. ("Mr. _Dubois!_" says the doctor.) But the daughter is continuing. Everyone shuts up.

"Tell me this…how will I know when I'm in the real world?…Even when you're looking at me right here I can't tell. I can't and it scares me, I could before but I can't now---will I ever be able to? Will I…"

"_We're_ real, _we're_ real. Listen to me. Please. Won't you…" sobs Mabel.

"Mabel---the treatments are working," breathes Dr. Jacobsen.

"_But that's what I'd want you to say!"_ her daughter cries back.

"What?"

"Listen to her. Listen to what she's saying."

"Maybe I just went crazy again, maybe I'm really Adele, my parents are staring at me talk to thin air right now---"

"Yes! YES!" Her father pumps his fist.

Mabel is laughing almost hysterically, "Yes, dear, yes…" when her daughter stares right at her and James again.

"Mom. Dad."

They hold their breath.

"I'm sorry for doing this…"

"It's okay, sweet---it's all right, it's a disease. It's not you---" the parents laugh hysterically.

"But I can't get loose from it, I can't escape it. Forget about me and move on."

"_You can so!"_ "We won't move on, Adele…"

"I love you. And if I ever see you again, I'll make it up to you, really---"

"_Thank you_…thank you…." James holds his wife as Mabel hugs Adele to her. Mingled tears run on Adele's bare flesh as the doctor who she called Smith stands watching.

"We know you'll come back…you can do it, Adele."

END

next chapter...Ah, sweet Neo!


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